


Food for Thought

by TheFirstMrsHummel



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Blow Jobs, Canon Compliant, Food Porn, M/M, learning to cook together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:15:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21867370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFirstMrsHummel/pseuds/TheFirstMrsHummel
Summary: David loves food and Patrick, though not necessarily in that order. Knowing that the way to David's heart is through his stomach, Patrick signs up for a meal kit service, and he and David learn how to cook together as devoted fiancés.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 52
Kudos: 130
Collections: Schitt's Creek Open Fic Night 2.0





	Food for Thought

**Author's Note:**

> I love how food motivated David is on the show. I also love food and writing about food, so here is more of that. Thanks so much to lettered for the prompt, and apologies for how long it took to finish!

David Rose’s love affair with food started at a very young age.

He would eagerly devour the delicious meals prepared by whatever chef was in residence at the Rose mansion at the time, and especially loved the occasional Sunday when Adelina would make tamales with red chile sauce straight from her own Abuela’s recipe. Then there were the parties his parents threw regularly, with trays of food everywhere and adult eyes that entirely missed a young boy swiping treat after treat from the silver platters.

Alexis had been a picky eater for as long as David could remember, and constantly on one fad diet after another once she started modeling at twelve. David, on the other hand, was an equal opportunity eater – he could count on a single hand the foods he was averse to, and his snobbery about nearly everything ended at the doorway of the Papaya King on East 86th Street in New York. He’d made it a tradition to celebrate each supposedly successful gallery event with a loaded jumbo hot dog and large tropical drink.

There were definitely times in David’s life, depending on who he was with, where he’d downplayed or outright hidden how gleefully he wanted to dive into a deluxe seafood tower or fully stocked sushi bar. When you hung out in exotic locations with models, socialites and actors it wasn’t the best look to be stuffing your face with food while everyone else seemed to be existing on molly, Red Bull with vodka chasers, and a sense of general disdain. In those cases he usually waited until everyone else had passed out or paired up for the night, often sneaking out of whosever’s bed he’d landed in to help himself to the plentiful leftovers.

When his family moved to Schitt’s Creek his dining options were cut to the bone; the terrible, uncivilized town had a single terrible, uncivilized restaurant, and their motel rooms were limited to the microwave as far as cooking was concerned. Not that anyone in his family could cook worth a damn even in a state-of-the-art kitchen, but still. But eventually he’d sussed out the more decent options at the café, and once he’d gotten his job at the Blouse Barn he was able to occasionally sample the moderately elevated food scene in Elmdale.

When David met Patrick, for a hot five minutes he’d considered hiding his love of a good meal from his new business partner. There was nothing cute about being a glutton, but then Patrick had gotten takeout from Café Tropical one day, and they must have changed the fryer oil recently because Patrick’s French fries looked and smelled amazing to David. Much better than the slightly wilted chef’s salad David had ordered, and he tried not to blush as he ate nearly half the fries once Patrick pushed the grease-spotted bag his way.

On their first date, the mozzarella stick platter had indeed been one of the saddest culinary experiences of David’s life. However, they followed it up with the restaurant’s much more successful club sandwich with bacon, and ended the meal with homemade rice pudding topped with whipped cream. David could still taste the sweetness of the custard lingering on Patrick’s lips, as he gave his future fiancé the kiss he’d been waiting his entire life for.

Patrick had clocked David’s interest in food early on, playing into it with gifts of cookies and chocolates, and romantic out of town dinners at farm-to-table restaurants when they expanded their search for vendors far beyond the borders of Schitt’s Creek. He’d known far too well that the only thing that could possibly tempt David into athletic activity was a barbecue, and true to his word had made sure that David had first dibs on the grilled meat and plentiful sides. He’d also known that a picnic would be a huge selling point when suggesting a hike in the woods as an afternoon activity for the two of them. Patrick found David’s enthusiasm and appetite adorably endearing, and it warmed David’s heart to know he didn’t have to be self-conscious or embarrassed about food around Patrick.

So when an unfamiliar, heavy box was delivered on a random Tuesday to the shop along with a fresh supply of Jenny Murphy’s apricot-peach butter, David shouldn’t have been surprised that Patrick had come up with a new and inventive way to bring more delicious food into their life. The box was perfectly square and printed with an orange and white logo that read _Plated_.

“What’s this?” David asked Patrick, who had just finished signing for the delivery.

“I signed up for one of those meal kit services,” Patrick said. “Just a trial run, but I got the first box for free so I figured I’d give it a shot.”

“And what spurred this impulse purchase on?”

“I think I’d like to start cooking more. We eat at the café or get takeout most nights, and when we do throw something together it’s not exactly inspiring.”

David slid his arms around Patrick’s waist. “I will have you know that the paprika you sprinkle on top of boxed mac and cheese elevates the flavor profile substantially.”

Patrick kissed him softly. “Thank you. But while I appreciate the sentiment, we’re grown men about to get married, not toddlers. There’s no reason we can’t have decently nutritious, home-cooked meals a couple of times a week.”

David’s insides turned to mush. It was such a simple, common idea, probably stated in thousands of homes every single day, but it was so domestic and nurturing it touched David somewhere deep inside. Patrick wanted to take care of him, take care of _them_ , by cooking dinner from scratch. “I really like that idea,” he whispered, a little embarrassed by the emotion an unexpected box of meal ingredients had stirred.

Patrick smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners like they did when he knew David was happy and feeling particularly loved. “I thought you might.”

That was how they found themselves, hours later after the store had closed, in Patrick’s small kitchen with an assortment of food spread out on the counter and peering at the stiff cardstock instructions.

“Sun-dried tomato chicken with farro and parmesan,” David read over Patrick’s shoulder. “That sounds nice.”

“I picked this one because it didn’t have as much chopping as some of the other ones. Didn’t figure that losing a finger would be a great introduction to the wonderful world of cooking for either of us. We just have to, um, roughly chop the sun-dried tomatoes and mince the garlic.”

“I’ll get the cutting board,” offered David, moving down to the drawer where Patrick kept it. Quarters were tight in the kitchen, and while David wanted to be helpful, he didn’t want to get in the way or act like he was trying to take over.

Patrick kissed David’s cheek when he placed the board down and handed him the little packet of two garlic cloves. “Will you put three cups of water in a pot and get it boiling, while I take care of this part?”

“Mmm,” David agreed, passing his hand over the small of Patrick’s back as he slipped past him to get a saucepan from the lower cupboards.

It was a lot like working at the store, it turned out, with the two of them working both independently and together in an easy, seamless fashion depending on the task. There were a few missteps here and there, like when Patrick forgot to remove the brown, hard ends from the garlic before tossing it in the pan, and how David splashed a little hot water on his wrist draining the farro. But for the most part it was successful, fun, and even a little sexy as their hands and bodies brushed against each other as they moved around the tiny kitchen.

David, being the more artistic of the two, put himself in charge of trying to recreate the plating on the colorful recipe card as well as he could, while Patrick set the table with silverware and poured them two glasses of merlot. David set the finished plates on the table with the aplomb of a waiter at a five-star restaurant, and they both sat down.

“I’m not sure if I can vouch for how good it’ll taste yet, but it sure looks delicious,” said Patrick.

“I mean, nothing’s burned,” replied David, lifting his wineglass. “And we already sliced up the chicken, so we know it’s not raw. We’ve got that going for us, at least. Shall we toast?”

“To our first attempt at cooking an adult meal,” Patrick intoned. They clinked their glasses together before each taking a bracing sip.

Patrick went first, cutting off a piece of chicken breast and loading it onto his fork with farro and spinach. David held his breath as he popped it onto his mouth and chewed thoughtfully.

“How is it?”

Patrick swallowed and put down his fork, looking very serious for a moment, before breaking into a huge grin. “It tastes even better than it looks.”

David gasped, feeling nearly as proud and accomplished as he had the day his custom labels for Rose Apothecary had been delivered. He shoved a forkful of the dish into his mouth, delighting in how everything tasted together, the brightness of the tomatoes with the firm texture of the farro and saltiness of the parmesan cheese. “It’s really good. I never thought I could cook at all, let alone make something like this.”

“We make a pretty good team.” Patrick’s eyes were soft and fond as he reached across the table to take David’s hand, rubbing his thumb over one of David’s gold engagement rings.

“Yeah, we do.”

~*~

It was the start of David and Patrick’s culinary journey, but far from the end. The meal kits made it easy to figure out their preferences through trial and error; though David was still prone to eat pretty much anything that didn’t eat him first, they discovered that Patrick loathed the smell and taste of truffles, and he was able to enjoy a level of heat and spice that had even David wincing.

David developed an aptitude for precise knife cuts, assisted by several YouTube tutorials, and for Christmas that year Patrick gifted David with a beautiful set of Wüsthof knives. Patrick loved working with dough, often choosing pizza, flatbreads and empanadas from their weekly selections, and eventually started making his own bread after falling down a Pinterest hole one thankfully rare, but slow day at the store.

As they gained confidence, they began to invite people over for dinner. Patrick’s apartment was too small for many guests at a sit-down meal, but they entertained one couple at a time; Alexis and Ted, Johnny and Moira, Stevie and whoever her plus one was that particular evening. Marci and Clint came to visit a couple of times to help with wedding plans, and both Patrick and David were delighted to show off their new skills to them.

“I never thought I’d see Patrick so at home in the kitchen,” said Marci, drying the dishes that David washed by her side. “He wasn’t interested in cooking when he was growing up, and well, to be honest, with him being a boy I never really pushed it. It’s those, uh, gender norms at work, right?”

David smiled. He loved that Patrick’s parents had gradually reached far past their own sheltered experience to familiarize themselves with more complex issues of gender and sexuality. They could have left off with just being okay with their son being gay, but they wanted to understand David’s pansexual identity as well, and how he challenged their ideas of masculinity and femininity. There had been a lot of internet research, and they’d been in touch with the nearest PFLAG chapter as well.

“Heteronormativity at it’s finest,” said David, keeping his tone light and playful.

“I’m so happy he found you, and that you understood what he needed when he did. No one else ever could, not in his entire life.”

David turned off the water, handing the last glass to Marci. “He’s not the only one.” He glanced over at Patrick and Clint, deep into a basketball game on TV and oblivious to their conversation. “I didn’t know that there was someone out there for me, who could help me be the best version of myself. I wasn’t a very good person for a long time, but with Patrick’s help, I feel like I am now.”

Marci smiled warmly. “You’re not just a good person, David. You’re the best.”

David blushed and fought the urge to make a self-depreciating comment. “Well, he deserves nothing less,” he said simply.

Two matching cheers came from the couch at that moment; Clint and Patrick high-fived and pointed at the screen in delight. David and Marci shared a brief eye-roll before Marci patted him on the shoulder and walked over to the couch while David started putting the dishes away.

A couple of hours and one simple but delicious dessert later, Patrick’s parents headed back to the motel. They had plans the next day to all drive together to Elmdale to shop for Marci’s mother of the groom dress for the wedding, and to get Clint fitted for his tux.

“Can I interest you in the last chocolate covered strawberry?” Patrick asked, once they were alone.

“I have to say that infusing them with the 18-year balsamic from the store was inspired. Maybe we should branch out into desserts more?”

“Mmmm, have a bite, then you tell me.” Patrick held the strawberry to David’s mouth, tempting him with the sweet treat.

David bit into the strawberry, and the combined juice and balsamic vinegar dripped over the curve of his lip and down onto his chin. He watched as Patrick’s eyes zeroed in on the liquid and decided not to lick it away, instead enjoying how Patrick’s eyes lingered on the ruby droplet.

David smirked. “You want the other half?”

“Nope.” Patrick tossed the remains of the strawberry on the dining room table, reaching instead to cup David’s cheeks and suck his lower lip into his mouth.

David swallowed the bite quickly, sharing the taste of chocolate and fruit on his tongue with Patrick. “Something you’d like the taste of more?” he asked teasingly.

“Your mouth,” said Patrick, kissing him softly. “Your skin.” He nuzzled his lips along David’s jaw and down to his neck. When David moaned, he moved his hand over David’s stiffening cock, then caressed over his hip until he was squeezing David’s ass deliciously. “Your cock, your ass. Every single part of you is my favorite thing to taste.”

“Take me to bed and show me,” David gasped.

Patrick did.

He backed David out of the dining area and to the bedroom, where he pushed his unresisting and enthusiastic fiancé onto the mattress face first. He stripped them both out of their clothes and had David writhing moments later as he trailed his lips and tongue over every inch of skin he could reach, then turned him over and did the same to his front side. Patrick licked up the underside of David’s cock, eyes dark and burning with want.

“I forgot one,” he said.

“One what?”

“One of my favorite things to taste. Your come, baby. I want it in my mouth, on my tongue. Give it to me?”

“Always. Suck me and I’ll come in that nice clean mouth of yours, make it all sloppy and dirty for you.”

Patrick grinned before engulfing the entire length of David’s dick in one long, slow hot slide. David groaned loudly as Patrick took no time at all to work up to full speed, sucking hard while working the bottom of the shaft briskly. The moment Patrick got his other hand involved, lightly cupping David’s balls and starting to massage them, David came before he was even able to get a coherent warning out. Patrick was able to swallow most of his load directly, but some leaked out of the corner of his lips. David panted, wrung out and boneless as he watched Patrick swipe the excess back into his mouth with his tongue.

“Sorry,” David gasped.

“Don’t apologize.” Patrick rose to his knees and started jerking off over David’s torso. “You made me sloppy, just like you said you would. You should know by now I love it when you do that, just as much as I love returning the favor.”

David’s softening cock twitched. “Gonna make a mess of me?”

“Fuck, yeah,” Patrick’s hand sped up, his hips starting to pulse forward in tiny hunches. “I’m gonna come all over you.”

And then he did exactly that with a shout, pearly come shooting onto David’s belly and chest as Patrick stroked every last drop onto David’s skin. He collapsed next to David on the bed, smiling in the soft and sated post-coital way that David never tired of.

“Mmmm.” David hummed, scooping a bit of Patrick’s come off his lower stomach, right next to the trail of dark hair between his navel and closely trimmed pubic hair. He sucked the finger into his mouth, rolling the flavor of Patrick’s release over his tongue before swallowing it down. He felt Patrick’s eyes on him and turned, grinning. “One of my favorite things to taste too.”

They kissed for a good long time, until Patrick finally got up to wet a washcloth with warm water and return to the bed to clean David up. They changed into t-shirts and sleep pants, snagging the laptop before getting under the covers and snuggling together comfortably.

“You up for a couple of episodes of Master Chef?” asked Patrick.

“Of course. You know, if we keep getting better at cooking, one of us might have to try out for the show ourselves one of these days.”

David started to make a sarcastic comment, but then stopped. He thought about how just six months earlier they could hardly boil rice, and now they were making three course meals for their family and friends. He thought about how when they looked at the real estate listings Ray sent over lately, large and functional kitchens were much more impressive than well appointed bathrooms or walk in closets. Maybe that’s what being in a loving, committed relationship was really about – growing and changing together in ways that were both wonderful and unpredictable.

“Maybe someday,” said David, nuzzling Patrick’s shoulder as he cued up the episode. “As long as we’re together, I think anything is possible.”

**Author's Note:**

> On a sad note, as I was writing this story, I found out that Plated went out of the meal delivery service. I thought about changing the company to Blue Apron, but in the end left it as a tribute to the business that provided some pretty great stress free dinners for my family and I over the last few years. RIP, Plated – we’ll miss you, but at least in this fic you’ll live on in infamy.


End file.
